


Mistletoe Is All I Know

by LanadelBeyoncePuncher



Category: League of Legends RPF
Genre: First Kisses, Fluff, IgNar is pretending to be a bad boy but we all know he's not, M/M, Steven is a sweetie, alcohol is liquid courage, holiday party
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-29
Updated: 2017-12-29
Packaged: 2019-02-23 12:21:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13189983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LanadelBeyoncePuncher/pseuds/LanadelBeyoncePuncher
Summary: Tristan doesn't believe that a plant could possibly get you kisses. He's wrong, of course.





	Mistletoe Is All I Know

**Author's Note:**

  * For [NyanNic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NyanNic/gifts).



It’s not _his_ idea to set up the obnoxious bundle of leaves and berries above the doorframe separating the living room from the hallway. It’s Steven’s insistence of keeping a “North American” tradition or something. Tristan hears some kind of vague excuse in French muttered under the younger man’s breath as he finishes tying the colorful orb of mistletoe to the temporary nail hammered into the doorframe.

“You think people are actually going to wait there and use it?” Tristan laughs as he stands beneath the ball of holiday plant.

“Yes,” Steven replies curtly in English, huffing a bit as he steps down from the ladder to admire his handiwork. “It’s magic. You’ll see.”

Tristan can’t help but laugh in response.

 

* * *

 

Misfit’s mid laner doesn’t believe in the magic plant as far as he can throw Steven, but once the party gets started and the members of Fnatic start crowding in, he’s more than tempted to stand in the doorframe for a few minutes and see if anyone happens to pass by and notice. The dark haired man decides that _if_ a party goer stops for more than a minute, he’ll be the first one to point out the mistletoe and make some kind of joke. Surely, no one would dream of standing so close to him in a small space; especially at the annual Christmas party held by the Misfits.

Tristan is proven wrong when the mid laner for Fnatic with his bright red sweater decorated by woven light bulbs and string walks over and lingers in the doorframe. He’s holding a cup of cider in his hands, probably spiked thanks to Dong-geun, looking up at Tristan with a soft smile.

“You look busy. Not talking to people and stuff,” Rasmus says before taking another sip of his drink and Tristan knows it’s been at least sixty seconds since the mid laner stopped at the doorframe so he _has_ to spill the beans.

“I’m waiting under the mistletoe because Steven is convinced it’s magic,” he says with a smug grin. “But it’s probably just some bullshit excuse to hang it up.”

“I’ll kiss you.”

The words make Tristan pause and quite frankly, break into a horribly bright pink blush as he stares down at Rasmus and shifts back and forth on the balls of his feet.

“You don’t mean that…” he laughs, shaking his head.

“I do,” Rasmus insists, pouting rather cutely as he puts his cider down on a nearby table and returns to his spot opposite of the taller man in the doorway. “It’s just a kiss. Nobody is going to make fun of you if you use the plant as an excuse.”

“I guess? Aren’t you a little too excited about–”

Rasmus is a lot shorter than Tristan. So much so, that he has to rise up on his tip-toes to reach the dark haired man’s lips. But he’s trying his damndest to make the best kissing face possible and Tristan can only assume that Rasmus hasn’t really kissed a guy before. Or anyone, for that matter. He’s already got his eyes closed and his hands straight down at his sides, just waiting for Tristan to start the kiss and the dark haired man has to admire Rasmus for not backing down from his precious smooch.

It’s honestly the cutest display of affection Tristan has ever seen from another guy and he can't help but grin and lean down to gently peck Rasmus on the lips. Their kiss is brief and soft, just a little touch of lips between them before Rasmus drops down from his tiptoes with his face flushed a fierce scarlet.

“You’re tall,” he mutters softly, knitting his fingers together.

“Ah,” Tristan says dumbly because he’s not quite sure how to respond to that.

“I like that,” Rasmus corrects with a cute little smile as he fixes his hair over his ear. “And you. Maybe.”

“Wait. What?”

But Rasmus is already snatching his cup off the table and scampering off to hang out with Mads and Martin, which leaves Tristan can to nod and watch the younger man go as his heart flutters just a tad. Even if Rasmus is younger, he’s already very cute and charming. Tristan walks back to their refreshment table to get a drink and finds himself wishing he has continued their kiss just a little more before Fnatic’s mid wandered off to hang with the others.

Dong-geun is pouring the spiced cider into red plastic cups when Tristan walks up and he breaks into what the dark haired man can only describe as a shit-eating grin.

“Caps, huh? Didn’t think you liked him so much,” He snickers as Tristan swipes one of the filled cups and holds it up in Dong-geun’s face.

“I know you’re spiking this. I want more alcohol,” Tristan demands firmly.

The brunette looks around for a moment, as though someone was going to yell at him for putting alcohol in a drink when everyone was already old enough, before pulling out a bottle of vanilla flavored vodka and pouring in another shot’s worth into Tristan’s cup.

“Liquid courage so you can hit on Rasmus some more?”

“No.”

“Liar.”

“Fuck you,” Tristan spits back before downing a good portion of his spiced cider and shaking his head to clear his nerves. “First of all, it was just a kiss. Second of all, I don't think he even meant it.”

Dong-geun shoots him a look that reads ‘are you kidding me’ and sighs a little as Tristan goes on with his wild assumptions. “He wouldn't kiss you if he didn't like you. At least seven or eight other guys passed you tonight.”

“Yeah, but—”

“Hey. Pretty boy. Go tell him you think he’s cute. _Before_ you lose your mind to alcohol,” the brunette insists as he prods Tristan’s side with the vodka bottle.

There’s a small amount of protesting on the dark haired man’s end, but one glass bottle is stronger than all of Tristan’s will to stay away from Rasmus Winters, so he does manage to make it through the door and back to the living room where Fnatic’s mid laner is chatting away with Mads about something or other. Upon seeing him approach, Mads glances up and smiles, excusing himself from the conversation which left one very awkward Tristan and a sly, smirking Rasmus.

“Back so soon?” He teased gently, laughing behind his almost empty cider cup.

“I...you’re cute,” Tristan blurts out without thinking, cursing himself softly the moment those words tumble from his lips.

Thankfully, it seems to have done the job, as Rasmus beams like the sun and flushes a soft pink. He glances between his cup and the dark haired mid laner before looking up at him once more. A hand cloaked in a red sweater sleeve winds it way onto Tristan’s arm and he’s being gently tugged down to Rasmus’ level so they can look at each other eye-to-eye.

“Cute?” Rasmus asks innocently, batting his eyelashes at the dark haired man.

“Um. Yes. Very,” Tristan stammers as he bends down, now acutely aware how close he is to the other man. “Can I get another kiss now?”

Rasmus doesn't speak after that, but Tristan suspects it has a lot to do with the soft laughter followed by the brunette pulling him forward by the collar until their lips met in a wet, vanilla tinted kiss for a second time that night. Maybe that mistletoe wasn't such a bullshit idea after all. 


End file.
